


Leave a Little Something To Be Desired

by NeoVenus22



Category: Power Rangers R.P.M.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott finds himself torn between duty and what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave a Little Something To Be Desired

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** 'Heroes Among Us'

Scott's brain must have shut itself off completely, because by the time a weight landed on his shoulder, he realized he had no idea how long it had been since he went over to the pantry to look for food. Slowly, his synapses started firing again as what could be considered 'normal': he registered the presence as a hand, the hand as belonging to Summer. "Hey."

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Scott did his best to force a smile. "Yeah."

Summer eyed him critically. "Are you sure? Because you've been staring at cereal boxes for fifteen minutes. It's not that big of a selection to require that much thought. You didn't get hit in the head or something, did you?"

"I didn't, I promise. I just..." Scott tried to figure out how best to defend himself and his inability to interact with others, but came up with nothing. "Yeah."

Her hand landed on his shoulder again, a light weight with heavy implications. "Scott... I think you what you did today was really brave."

He shrugged. The movement prompted her fingers to drift down his arm slightly. But she didn't remove her hand. "I didn't really do anything," he said. "I mean, it's just the job. If we didn't do it, who would??"

"That wasn't what I meant," she said. "I meant the thing with your dad."

"That."

"It took a lot of guts to stand up to him. And to give back that medal. I know how much you wanted it." Summer's gaze flickered from Scott's eyes into the corner, and he felt compelled to see what she was looking at. Gem and Gemma. Of course. Gem was grinning and laughing, same as ever, holding open the ribbon to dangle his medal around his sister's neck. Scott's chest ached with the absence of the weight he'd felt for less than a minute.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," said Summer seriously.

"No," he said, "it doesn't. Giving out medals for the sake of decorum is something else. Because that Murdoch guy told him to? I mean, come on. It's a pity medal. It doesn't mean anything. He didn't see me do anything."

"You deserve a medal every day, Scott. You do great things."

"We all do," he said, without a second thought.

Summer smiled faintly, her only acknowledgement of his praise. "It's not the same."

"Why isn't in the same?" he asked, although he suspected he already knew the answer. Summer was doing this for some kind of redemption. Flynn was here because it was his nature to fight and give and do good things. Dillon wanted answers. Ziggy wanted respect. The twins wanted to blow stuff up. Scott wanted things he could never have. His brother back. His father's acknowledgment, at the very least. And something else, something he'd yet to define.

"It just isn't," she said. Clearly the things she thought were not ones she felt particularly comfortable voicing. At least, not to him. Who only knew what had gone on when she'd run off to eat lunch with the others, to celebrate Gem's accomplishment at the expense of Scott's continued failure. Who only knew what had been said to make Gem come after Scott like that. He wasn't that aware of his surroundings to make the effort on his own.

"You went off with them today," he said, abruptly changing the subject from one uncomfortable matter to another, so long as he was thinking of it.

"Well, yeah," she said, her voice even, but her eyes belying her uncertainty. "What did you expect me to do?"

Okay, so he couldn't really answer that. This wasn't Summer's issue, it was all Scott's. Still, selfishly, he wanted her support. "I don't know," he said honestly.

"Gem deserves recognition just as much as anyone else," Summer pointed out.

"Yeah, I know that." Of course he knew that. And he wasn't trying to take this victory from Gem. They understood that, didn't they? Scott thought of Gem's glee as he admitted he'd never gotten anything like that before. Glee that would've mirrored Scott's own, had he been on the receiving end. He wasn't trying to deny Gem that, and he hoped none of them thought that of him.

"But you wanted company?"

"Sort of, yeah." In truth, he'd wanted her company. Just hers. Even if she didn't say anything. Sometimes the silence was enough. From the moment she'd sent dust flying up next to him in the waste, he'd felt an odd sort of kindred spirit in her. He had the feeling that Summer understood him, in a way that no one else really did, in a way that was beyond words. She would never think he wanted the medal at Gem's expense. She knew the truth. She got it.

"Even though you basically yelled at me and said you didn't want to talk about it."

Scott was properly chagrined. Understanding him in a way beyond words was maybe an improvement, since he didn't seem to be that good at them. "Sort of, yeah."

"You're giving me mixed signals, Scott," said Summer with a sigh.

He was about to protest, but she wasn't wrong.

Still, he waited too long, and Summer started to walk away. She didn't go far, however, plunking herself on a stool and adopting his method of staring intently at nothing at all. "Hey," he said, stepping into her line of vision, drawing her attention to him indefinitely. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Summer offered him a vague, distracted half-smile. "It's all right."

"No, you're right. I just don't know what to say."

"It's okay, Scott, really."

"About anything," he said, after a pause.

And after another pause, one that seemed like it lasted forever, Summer nodded near-imperceptibly. "I see."

He had the feeling she did, and that both relieved and horrified him. "So."

"So."

"I don't mean to push you away."

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him, all cool seriousness, except for the look in her eyes. She was warm and soft and understanding, all of the things he liked about her.

This was it. This was the moment, _the_ moment, the one that always happened in movies, or in stories from a set of old grandparents. Scott knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to tell her the truth, he was supposed to suck up his courage and admit that his feelings had been building from the moment they met, and he was pretty sure she felt it, too. He was supposed to ask what they should do next. He was supposed to grab her and kiss her and be dramatic and romantic. He was supposed to make this moment perfect.

He couldn't do it.

Scott remembered the twitch of his father's smile as he accepted his pity medal back without comment. The look like maybe he'd almost been proud of his son. Scott felt like he was on the verge of earning his father's pride for real.

Being with Summer would jeopardize that.

Fraternizing with his teammates would be a major no-no, as far as the colonel was concerned. It would lower Scott in his father's estimation, perhaps irrevocably. And after Marcus, after all that... he just couldn't do it.

Be with Summer, ruin what shreds of his family dynamic were left. Choose his family, and be left with... what? A prayer that Summer would wait for him? That was suggesting she even wanted him at all.

But he'd have hope. And hope was better than nothing.

"For how long?" he said in a whisper, forcing himself to continue watching her.

Comprehension dawned. "I don't know."

"I want you," he said, then his face heated. "To be there, I mean." They could be doing this forever, though. It was unfair of him to ask her to wait. It was unfair of him to ask her for the sort of loyalty he wasn't willing to offer himself. He was making a choice, and only time would tell if if was the right one.

"I can't make promises," she said. "You know that."

"I know," he said, grateful beyond the telling that she listed no names, although he had a feeling. That would be a bridge he'd cross when he came to it. If he came to it.

"Scott, I'm sorry." She wasn't apologizing for her, she was apologizing for him. For the circumstances. He hadn't doubted that she'd get it.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too." Earlier, he'd been mourning that emptiness on his chest, the place where he'd had a brief moment of pride and recognition. But now the emptiness in his chest was complete, inside and out. "Really."


End file.
